


Into the Woods

by starspangledmanwithaplan



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Blood, Blood and Injury, F/M, Family Feels, Feels, Gen, Head Injury, Heavy Angst, Hurt Jughead Jones, Injury, Jughead Jones-centric, Major Character Injury, mentioned the hood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 07:49:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16036112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starspangledmanwithaplan/pseuds/starspangledmanwithaplan
Summary: In an attempt to keep the peace between the two rival gangs, Jughead offers himself to The Ghoulies.





	Into the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for those that have been watching Riverdale, but are not up to date. This follows season 2, episode 21.

The decision had been made before you even got a chance to lay down your veto. In order to keep peace between The Serpents and The Ghoulies, Jughead was going to hand himself over to Penny, who had somehow weaseled her way into the good graces of Malachai, the leader of The Ghoulies.

You were crying out for your boyfriend, struggling in the arms of your best friends as they held you back. “No, Juggy, don’t. Don’t do this. You don’t have to do this.”

The raven-haired teenager stopped mid-stride and glanced at you over his shoulder. “You should go, Y/N. You don’t want to see this.”

“There’s nothing for me to see,” you choked. “Because you’re not walking away from me.”

Vee’s nails were digging into your skin in her attempt to keep you from slipping free while Archie had an arm around your stomach. He was looking down at you with sad eyes.

“Stop him, Arch,” you pleaded, tears streaming down your face.

“I can’t do that,” Archie informed you.

“Bullshit,” you snarled, the fight intensifying inside of you. “Juggy, please. We can figure this out. Please.” You knew you sounded desperate, shrill, pitiful, but you didn’t care about that. All you cared about was the life of Jughead Jones.

Before turning around, Jug hung his head and blew out a shuddering breath, one that fogged the air in front of his face. When his eyes met yours and he started heading toward the three of you, you let out a grateful sob. Archie and Veronica released their grip just enough so you could wrap your arms around your boyfriend’s neck. You were too distracted to wonder why they were holding you at all.

Jughead was kissing you, stealing the air from your lungs. When he pulled back, his eyes were full of tears. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too,” you sobbed. “Come on, let’s go.”

As he shook his head, he was grinding his molars together. “Take her home, Archie,” he instructed his best friend.

The redhead sniffled loudly. “I’ll keep an eye on her for you.”

“I know you will,” Jughead said, his voice thin.

“No,” you argued, their words finally sinking in. “ _You’re_  taking me home, Jug.  _We’re_  leaving.”

When you moved to get loose, Veronica and Archie’s grip tightened. “I’m sorry,” Vee lamented, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“What? No, this isn’t… I can’t… Jughead, please,” you implored once more, sounding like a broken record.

He had already turned around and was headed towards the meeting spot, doing his best to ignore your screaming pleas. Even after he disappeared into the foliage, you cried and fought to get loose. You only stopped when there was a pinch in the back of your neck, like a bug bite, or a needle.

Your two friends released you, though they stayed close, too close. “What did you do?” you mumbled, fingers on the back of your neck, hissing when you found a small wound there.

“What we had to do,” Archie assured you, his voice low, his eyes… blurring together.

You squeezed your eyes shut and gave your head a small shake. “I do- I don’t feel ri- right,” you slurred.

Archie’s hand was on your elbow, steadying you as the ground shifted underfoot. “It’s okay, Y/N. Don’t fight it.”

“Did you give her too much?” Vee asked in a harsh whisper, her dark eyes scanning your face.

“Kevin told me how much to use,” was his only answer.

Black dots were clouding your vision, growing larger as every muscle in your body started to lose their strength. Your stomach was rolling and you felt nauseous as you broke out in a cold sweat.

“Vee?” You met your best friend’s concerned gaze, wanting to demand she tell you why they were doing this to you, but you never got the chance.

Archie had you in his arms and was striding toward the car, settling you in the backseat, your head in Veronica’s lap, her hand stroking your hair. That was the last thing you remembered before slipping into nothingness.

Someone was urging you awake, their hands tapping your face, their voice low and gritty. It was FP, and he was pissed.

“Where is he, Y/N? Where’s my boy?” he demanded, his tone dark and gritty.

With your mouth tasting like bitter cotton, you struggled to sit up. Your body felt as if it weighed hundreds of pounds, and your brain was swimming in fog.

“Wha- what’s happening?” you croaked, your throat like sandpaper.

FP handed you the glass that had been sitting on the nightstand. “Where’d Jug go, Y/N?”

You choked on the water as the thick fog cleared and you remembered everything. “He left, he gave himself up, just like she wanted.”

“I’mma kill that bitch,” he ground out, surging off your bed and striding purposefully across the room.

It didn’t matter that you could barely stand, you were pushing yourself up. “FP, wait. Take me with you.”

“You should stay here,” he warned, rage storming in his eyes.

“Goddamn it,” you growled. “I’m coming with you, and that’s final.”

Ten minutes later, FP was jumping out from behind the wheel of his beat up truck. “Stay there,” he ordered, glaring at you as he jogged towards the clearing.

With your teeth gnashing together, you climbed out of the truck, your legs shaking uncontrollably. When you tried to run, your feet got caught together, and you fell to the ground, pebbles biting into your palms and knees. You let out a groan of pain and frustration as you started to crawl to where FP had disappeared moments ago.

You couldn’t lose Jug, not now, not when you had just  _really_  found one another. After he was transferred to South Side, you had given up all hope of getting together with the social outcast. It was hard to notice someone when you no longer saw them on a daily basis. Not that Jughead Jones took notice of you before, not in the way you wanted.

See, where Jughead sat off to the side, nose buried in a book, fingers tapping away at his keyboard, willingly extracting himself from the social hierarchy of high school, you were blatantly ignored by just about everyone. Somehow, you managed to make a couple of friends, Jug being one of them.

And then, The Hood started taking out the people of Riverdale; the liars and abusers, the cheaters and molesters, the corrupt and fugitives. It felt like everyone you knew was a target.

You saw Jughead at the Chock’lit Shoppe immediately after he had become a Serpent. The cuts on his cheek were still oozing and his dark hair was hanging in his face. You ordered two chocolate malts and brought him one.

“You look like you need something cold,” you mused, motioning from his face to yours. God, you hoped he couldn’t hear how hard your heart was beating.

“Thank you,” Jughead huffed, a small smile on his lips. “Care to join me?”

Dropping to the seat across from him was answer enough.

Fast forward a couple of months and, for all you knew, Jughead was unconscious, beaten up and bloody. You refused to let your brain go to the darkest corners where images of death lingered. As you drew nearer to the shrubbery and trees, you heard footsteps; heavy, determined. Nothing could have prepared for the sight of Forsythe Pendleton Jones II carrying the limp body of his son.

“No,” you struggled to say.

FP dropped to his knees and settled Jughead on the ground, his head and shoulders resting on your thighs as you sat back. He ripped off his jacket and covered Jug with it before his head fell, tears falling from his eyes.

With shaking hands you gingerly touched a face you no longer recognized. There was a wide cut on his cheekbone, right below the eye that was completely swollen. A long and deep gash covered half of his forehead, and there was blood seeping out of his undoubtedly broken nose, and mouth.

You choked on his name as you struggled to find a pulse. This couldn’t be happening, it  _had_  to be a dream, a nightmare. How was this your life right now?

“911,” you finally said. “We need to call 911.”

FP swiped a hand over face. “It’s no use, Y/N. He’s gone.”


End file.
